


Under the Moonlight

by Bliss_Smith



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, building a foundation, fluffy stuff, moonlight walks and long conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 11:58:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15640296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bliss_Smith/pseuds/Bliss_Smith
Summary: Timeline, early on. Post Redcliffe Village and Circle, pre-Denerim/HavenLbr, this is self indulgent fluffy romance, laying the groundwork for the fluffy smut that will follow. Part 1 of a three-story set





	1. Chapter 1

One of the things she loves best about falling in love with him is learning him. Watching him and how he moves through the world, how he interacts. Even better, how he reacts. He's naturally expressive and emotional and she finds herself content to spend day after day walking and talking and learning everything she can about him.

One of the things she doesn't love so much is doing it in front of a group of people. Two of them are rather openly disdainful about Alistair and her to begin with; as the days pass on the road to Denerim and they can only become more openly enthralled with each other, Morrigan and Sten don't bother to hide their opinion. Even Wynne shakes her head over it, although she is at least more discreet with her disapproval. The only one who doesn't have a negative opinion is Leliana—she seems to find it ridiculously cute.

They try, she and Alistair. They do not openly flirt, do not walk with each other any more than they have to. They even try to not look at each other, but it's all rather hopeless – on both their parts. 

She knows at some point things will come to a head, in some manner. They aren't going to just keep looking dreamily at each other. Maybe for a while more. She doesn't think he's ready to kiss her just yet, but he will be. When he does, there's no way everyone won't know it. What happens then?

But that's a thought for another day. Today she just wants to watch him talk to Leliana about Chantry life. Watch him laugh and smile, watch his eyes light up when he turns and finds her looking at him.

~*~

She's never had a man enjoy watching her fight the way he does. She certainly never had a handsome and talented sparring partner take such obvious delight in her skills. He's never once said she's too pretty to fight the way she does; he only tells her how good she looks doing it.

In fact, how she looks has become part of the routine. They wake up early every morning to train, and as they dress out for it he's taken to helping with her hair. He loves to brush and braid it, to weave in ribbons and wildflowers for her to wear while he tries to get in under her guard.

He's used to fighting darkspawn and bandits, and training to fight mages. She's used to fighting angry men much bigger than she, who are determined to set her back on her short, beribboned ass. He hasn't gotten the better of her yet, but he keeps trying, knowing he'll be a better fighter for it.

She sometimes thinks that’s one of the biggest reasons they're so drawn to each other.  She makes him feel like more of a man for how his fingers work her hair. He never makes her feel like less of a woman for fighting better than he.

Which is exactly why Sten and Morrigan feel the need to judge them both on who they are and what they do. Morrigan believes Alistair’s softness and willingness to let Mistral lead means he can never be a real man. Sten believes her strength and skill as a fighter means she isn't a real woman.

And every time they lock eyes and smile at each other over the tops of their shields, they find what everyone else thinks really doesn't matter at all.

~*~

What surprises her most is her willingness to wait. She's known she's in love with him since he turned to her just outside Redcliffe and said he needed to tell her something she probably wouldn't like. All she could think to account for his unhappiness was a girlfriend tucked away in the village. The thought alone was enough to steal the sunshine from her sky and she knew she could no longer pretend she wasn't already head over heels.

By the end of that conversation the sun was back out, bringing with it soft clouds and the cooing of small love birds, rainbows and roses and everything good in the world. She's been waiting ever since for him to kiss her, and the idea that she's actually willing to keep waiting is interesting, to say the least. She's never waited for anything she didn't have to—if it's something she can step up and take, a situation she can step up and initiate, she does. Most of her first kisses were ones she set in motion.

And now she spends her days happily waiting, content to watch him and dream, to lie awake in her tent and hold each moment up to the light, to study and remember the way he smiles when he makes her laugh, how he always knows when she's getting hungry. How it feels when he stands close behind her to fix her hair, how every morning he seems to press a little closer to her, to find some reason to lean down and whisper in her ear.


	2. Chapter 2

The evening walks start out as pure necessity. The closer they get to Denerim the higher the chances someone will realize just who the small band of travelers are. The bounty on their head is high enough to send people out looking, and the size and composition of the group doesn’t lend itself to secretive travel. Travelers gossip along the way, and they gossip about other travelers they’ve passed. It’s not paranoia to think someone has added all that up.

They had started perimeter walks because that’s what good leaders do—work proactively to keep their followers safe. And if it maybe gives the two young, lovestruck leaders a chance to have some more private conversations, that’s just gravy on the plate.

They talk about everything they can’t during the day, all the minute personal details they aren’t really interested in sharing with people they aren’t close with.  They share the shadows and the lights of their lives, everything that led them to this moment in time. And in the darkness, she can find the courage to ask the really embarrassing questions.

“You’re the only one I have to ask about this, so, is there anything else that changes after the joining? Or what does? I’ve noticed some new things and I don’t know what to attribute them to. Is it the taint, or is it the way my life got upended?”

She tries not to blush at the thought of the conversation and fails. She tries not to look at him, too, and fails even worse. Her need to watch him, watch his expressions, always outweighs her need to hide. Which tells her everything she’ll ever need to know about how she feels about him, doesn’t it?

He's pinking up, too and she wonders at that. Does he somehow have a clue what she wants to ask about, or is there something else embarrassing that she hasn’t yet noticed?

“Well, the weird and scary dreams, you know about that. And I mentioned the food thing, right? I’ve been assuming you didn’t always eat like you do now.”  He blushes more and rushes to speak again. “That didn’t sound right, I’m not...”

She’s about to die of embarrassment already and they’re not even close to the awkward parts. She’s so grateful for the thin sliver of moonlight; at least she can pretend he can’t see how red she is.

“You’re okay; I know what you mean. And no, I had a healthy enough appetite, but I never ate like a lumberjack. I’ve just been assuming it’s all the walking.”

“That might be part of it, but the underlying cause is the taint. It does change the way our bodies work.”

“What else?” she asks, because she knows there’s more. His expression is screaming it.

“Well. Ah. Appetite for food isn’t the only thing that increases.”

She laughs at that and speaks before she can think about what she’s saying.  “And here I figured it was just thoughts of you giving my forearms a workout.” She gasps as she realizes what she said, what she just admitted. How many things she just admitted to. She tries to convince herself he won’t know what that euphemism means but the surprise on his face says otherwise, that he knows exactly what she meant by it.

“And here I thought women didn’t...do that.”

She thinks about burying her face in her hands but then she wouldn’t be able to look at him. She would miss the way happiness blooms in his expression, that she likes him well enough to have such thoughts about him. She can’t do anything but laugh at her runaway mouth and look him in the eye.

“We do; we’re just not allowed to talk about it like men do.”

“How do...” He stops and shakes his head as his eyes darken, hands coming up to push the thought away. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”

“Yeah you don’t have to worry about that. I think I’ve said more than enough on the subject for one evening.” She takes a breath and jumps to what she was after all along. She might as well, since she’s already blushing hot enough to set her hair on fire. “But since we’re both feeling awkward and embarrassed I might as well get to the point. I went to Wynne, but she doesn’t know anything about the taint and what it might do, so you're my last hope. Is there any chance anyone ever mentioned specific ways it might mess with a woman’s body? Alter the way things work?”

“No, I’m really sorry to say there was never anything mentioned about female wardens.” He gives it a minute and she’s not sure which one of them it’s for. “Can you tell me what the specific problem is? I know it’s probably something you wouldn’t normally talk to a man about, but, well, like you said. You don’t have anyone else to ask, or even a library to browse through. I want you to know you can ask me about anything. Tell me anything. It’s just us, and I might need to know.”

“I just haven’t been bleeding like I should. I’m past due, and I don’t know what to blame that on. Wynne gave me a few suggestions, but she really doesn’t know; it could just as easily be warden related as stress.” She’s suddenly grateful for her earlier blunder. It certainly makes menstrual talk less embarrassing. Although she suspects it’s easier, too, because it’s him. She’s that comfortable with him. 

“You’re sure you’re not pregnant?” His voice is quiet, filled with a mix of too many things to untangle.

She wants to ask how a Chantry boy knows that’s a symptom of pregnancy but she’s not sure how rude that might sound. Besides, it would just be a way to put off the rest of the conversation. “I’ve never done anything that would get me pregnant so yeah, I’m pretty comfortable saying it’s not that.”

She’s not sure which one of them is more surprised, him by that information, or her by what looks like disappointment under his genuine surprise. She wants to ask but can’t find enough words to string together to make a coherent question.

He starts to say something and shakes his head instead. “Okay we’re going to leave that conversation for another time.” He takes a few breaths before giving her a small shrug and lopsided smile. “There wasn’t even a backhanded comment about something like that. There weren’t a lot of us here; I’m sure that didn’t help.”

“What would they have thought about me? Honestly.” That was a question she’d been holding on to for a while. She never was sure if she wanted to know.

The way he doesn’t quite meet her eyes tell her a lot. “I’d like to say you would have gotten the same welcome that Jory or Daveth would have received. I do think most of them would have given you that, but when the message came, that Duncan was on his way back with a young woman, there was some rude talk. There were a couple you probably would have had to fight to prove yourself, and a couple more you would have had to fight off.”

It's no less than she expected. Fereldens like to talk about how much they love equality but there’s always someone ready to call bullshit on it. The women call it on the men, the mages call it on the women, and the elves call it on everyone. 

She lets the silence hang for a moment, while she gathers her courage. Now might not be the right time, but sometimes you just jump and hope it works. “I’m glad it’s you, that I’m with. I mean, I’m not trying to say I’m glad they all died but. I can’t help but like that it’s just the two of us. That we get along like we do.”

He stops at that and she has to stop with him. Not to be polite, not for any thinkable reason, only because the pull is too strong. The pull of him, or is it them? Is this what it’s going to be like when they stop dancing around the reasons they shouldn’t be doing this? When they finally admit there’s simply no way they can’t?

“I know it’s too soon. I know we’re young and both coming off of great loss, and this is the last thing we should be doing.” His voice is low, like the words are so heavy he can’t push them out any louder. “There are so many reasons and I’ve been trying so hard to not do this, but I can’t stop the way I feel about you. All I can do is hope you feel the same way.”

She can only nod, knowing if she opens her mouth she’s either going to start babbling at him or start crying, neither of which seems the best response to the way he’s looking at her. So much love and hope, need, and want, like she’s Andraste herself and he’s a mere worshipper. But isn’t that how she feels about him? 

_Say something you fool of a girl!_ “Yes, please.” She groans and rolls her eyes, that she said something so ridiculous, but the way his face lights up more makes it okay. More than okay. He threads his hand into her hair, his fingers moving easily, like he’s practiced this in his head over many a night. The feeling is everything she could ever want.

“May I kiss you, Mistral?” 

“Yes, please.” At least it’s more appropriate this time. And it makes him smile, like she’s given him the best gift.

It’s just how it should be, like she’s dreamed over many a night. They’re both nervous and awkward but that just makes it better, she thinks. That and the smiles, the happy laughter that wraps them together.

**Author's Note:**

> Soundtrack: Stevie Wonder - I Was Made To Love Her


End file.
